


Ein Elephant im Nadelöhr

by crookedspoon



Series: Rounds of Kink [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Joker (comic)
Genre: Community: rounds_of_kink, F/M, Large Cock, Misogynistic Slurs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Quick and Dirty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 23:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6260758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crookedspoon/pseuds/crookedspoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harley has a proposition to make: her booty for his muscle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ein Elephant im Nadelöhr

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Any, any, size queens, One character struggles to take another’s very large cock" at rounds-of-kink round 27 and "rare pairs" at trope bingo round 5. Spot-checked by Neurotoxia.
> 
> This is set before the events in Azzarello's Joker comic. I used to wonder why Croc would be so loyal to the Joker right from the beginning when he had nothing (because people in Joker's employ usually don't live long enough to cash their social security checks). Also, Harley's lack of a role was odd, so here we are. I will leave you with this and return to my garbage can.

Harley's jaw aches. She should've known better than to cram his cock into her mouth all while keeping her teeth in check, but if anything, Harley likes a challenge. No matter the consequences to her body, the city, or otherwise.

Grin and bear it is her motto, adapted by – not from – Mr. J. It's not only her who's learning.

And it's not like she ain't having fun.

"Fuck," Croc groans as he grabs her messy hair, fucking her face as much he can with that monster cock of his. The girls certainly weren't kidding when they said he was huge. She can barely fit more than the head inside. 

She'd prepped herself going in, but even the biggest dildo she owns has got nothing on him. He's like a soda can and as she's jacking him, Harley wonders if she can make good on her promise after all. She's working herself open, two fingers, three, going on four, as quickly as she can. Her panties are soaked, but they have been even before she got started.

 

She'd come after closing, after the last poor sod had racked up the day's losses and returned to his own lair, tail between his legs, but already hatching new schemes on how to get the moolah back.

"J's getting out soon," she'd said, leaning against the door to his meat locker, taking a drag from a scented cigarette and studying her nails to ignore the stench of red meat and unwashed bodies.

"What's that gotta do with me?" he'd growled. At least he sat down and took a swig from a bottle discreetly hidden inside a brown paper bag; enough to show that he was listening.

"He'll want his turf back. His operations. His money. For that, he'll need some muscle, so I figured, why not the best?"

"If flattery's the only currency you got, you can walk yer skinny ass right outta here."

Harley took one last drag, dropped the butt to the floor, ground it beneath her sole. Her heels clicked on the tiles as she sauntered into the cooler. "I'm told _that's_ the only meat you get these days." She flicked her thumb toward the pig carcasses dangling from their hooks. It was a gamble to bring this up; he might take it as disrespect.

Croc's expression had soured. Harley had to suppress the urge to pinch his cheeks and smooth out the wrinkles.

"You know J ain't got the cash to hire you." Harley walked around his chair, one deliberate step after the other, delighting in the way the bulging muscles in his shoulders and neck jumped beneath her touch. "And I know money's easy enough for you to come by." She nodded to the chips on the table. "But girls?"

"This your pitch? You think I worry about girls?"

"They talk, you know. Say you ain't got much luck with the ladies once you unpack the goods. Not even the hookers in East End will do more than give you head or let you fuck their thighs."

The paper bag crunched in Croc's grip. "Now you're mocking me."

"I'm tellin' it to ya straight." Harley leans against the table, careful not to upset any empty bottles or towers of chips. "Must be frustrating, not getting to stick it to a bitch."

"What's it to ya?" he huffed, taking another swig.

Harley shrugged. "I might be able to help."

"I don't need your pity."

"It's a serious offer. Take it or leave it."

"So, what? Yer tellin' me you got a girl that won't run screaming at the sight of me?"

"Would that be so unbelievable?"

"How do I know she ain't some ugly-ass crack whore crawling with the clap?"

Harley cleared her throat, freed some strands from the collar of her leather jacket and bent forward to give him a good look at her rack. "'Cuz you're lookin' at her, sweetums."

After a tense moment of silence, Croc cracked up, laughter ringing harsh and loud in the refrigerator. He'd wiped the old crocodile tears when it finally subsided enough to let him breathe. "Why'd I wanna mess with his lady?"

"'Cuz _his lady_ can take you."

"Yer thin as a reed. I'd break ya."

Harley captured his jaws between her fingers, bringing their lips close together and twitching her eyebrows. "Wanna try me?"

Croc's tongue slithered over his chipped teeth. "Joker set you up to this? 'Cuz I don't want it to come around and bite me in the ass."

"I make my own decisions, and they're for _his_ benefit." Hooking a knee over his thigh, Harley sank onto his lap and snaked a hand up his bare torso. The skin was dry, but not as scaly as his back. "If he has a problem with how I do business while he's rottin' in Arkham, he can take it up with _me._ I'll handle it."

Croc's meaty hands squeezed her ass through her leather pants. She couldn't understand why the girls _wouldn't_ want someone with a sure grip like that. "Boy, you musta been real desperate since your man's been gone."

Harley's grin burst like splitting skin. "You've got no idea."

 

No one's got any idea of what she's prepared to do for her man. Not even the man himself. But proving herself in this manner ain't the worst use of her time. 

Harley steps around her corsage and her heels to to pick up his sweatpants and drape them over the edge of the table. A measure to protect her ass against the cold. She's still wearing her leather jacket to protect her back and arms against it, but since she can't very well fuck with your pants on she has to make do with the things at hand. She hops up on the table, making the beer bottles rattle and a couple of towers collapse, and reaches for his cock again. 

"Sure you don't wanna back out?"

She hisses when he thumbs her clit and slides his thick fingers into her cunt. "A deal's a deal." 

She's so horny her skin is prickling. No way she's gonna back out now. A loud moan rolls from her lips when another finger enters her. Fuck, three of his are thicker than the four she'd stuffed herself with before. Perhaps she ain't as ready as she thought she'd be.

No matter. She'll take it in stride. At this point, waiting's no longer an option. She produces a packet of lube from inside her jacket and slicks them with it. She needs both hands for his cock and only a palm for herself. She's plenty wet already.

With a dirty grin, he rubs his cock against her pussy, teasing her with it. That feels nice, but she really, really wants to fuck already.

She reaches down and guides him to her hole. This time, he doesn't slide up to her clit again. The beer bottles crash to the floor as he pushes inside.

"Oh yeah," Harley breathes, holding herself open for him, knees digging into her shoulder and fingers kneading to tug any skin out of his way. His cock stretches her more than his fingers did, but she wants him deep. 

He pulls back a little only to ease himself in further. Shallow and slow. She wouldn't have taken him for such a careful lover, but then again, you gotta take care not to ruin the few chances you get of boning someone.

He seems content to just make the head of his cock disappear inside her over and over, but not her. She wants so much more. She can take it. She _knows_ she can. Grabbing the base of his cock, she tries to shove him deeper. 

"Didn't think ya'd be so greedy for it." He chuckles, stroking his palm over her stomach, fondling her tits, pinching her stiff nipples. He's taking his time exploring her body, but for Harley, everything's a blur since all she can focus on is trying to relax enough to accommodate him. She's hanging on by a thread, and if she slips now, this might actually become painful.

"Just 'cuz I'm treatin' this as a business transaction doesn't mean I can't enjoy it," she grinds out between breathy moans.

"Your man ever fist you?" Croc asks as his thumb attacks her clit again. "That how you can take it?"

"That's between me an' him." Harley groans and lets her head falls back. "I don't kiss and tell. But feel free to beat it to that fantasy." She certainly will. In fact, imagining it's J down there, sinking in to the wrist, helps her ease up and adjust faster.

Croc does her the favor and slides in further, just that bit more with every thrust. Harley can't help the noises she makes, hitched breaths and broken moans. 

Gripping her hips for a better angle, he buries perhaps half his length in her. Harley no longer watches his girth spread her open, she's too busy holding onto the edge of the table. She's never been this full before and it's awesome. The way his cock drags over her inner walls, she might even come from just that. Still, stimulating herself manually is a reflex by now and her hand flies to her clit because she's so close and doesn't want to lose that edge. 

He grunts when she clenches around him and fucks her through her orgasm, plunging the tip into her again and again until she doesn't know where her first orgasm ends and her second begins. She's so wrung out, she barely notices how he continues to nudge his cock against her and jacking himself, or when he comes over her stomach and tits.

Rolling in bliss, she rubs her stockinged arches against his stubble. It's been so long since she fucked another person and she'd like to bask in that full-body glow a moment longer. But with their pleasurable activity over and done with, cold creeps into her again and she'd better put on some clothes before she catches anything. She's gonna see J soon anyway. This should tide her over.

With a contented sigh, Harley heaves herself upright and slides off the table. The last of the chips clatter to the floor. A miracle they'd held out this long.

She bends to pick up her corsage but not as sprightly as usual; she has to bow her knees to take off the pressure in her abdomen, a pressure she's gonna feel for _days._ Well, not the worst souvenir. 

"J's scheduled to be released next week," she tells him as she cleans herself up. "I'm sure you're one of the first addresses he'll seek out."

"Don't worry yer pretty li'l head," Croc says, tilting her chin up and running his thumb along her jawline. "Unless the fool does sumthin' to seriously piss me off, we're good."

"If he does," Harley coos with hooded eyes and smooths her palm over his pecs, "you come to me first. I'll sort out any grievances."

"Girl, you make me wanna come up with grievances in the first place."

"I know," Harley says as she turns to walk out of the locker with a teasing sway in her hips. "I'm countin' on it."

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Rein Raus" by Rammstein.


End file.
